The Phantom of the Opera Therapy Group
by The Sunday Wife
Summary: Ally, your average phangirl, was fed up with the characters of the Phantom of the Opera. They were all crazy. So she rounded them up, and brought them to her house for a group therapy session so that they could work out their problems. Chaos ensues.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

Our story begins in a modest town, on a modest street lined with modest beige houses and modest yards of beige grass. In one of these modest houses, in a modest beige living room, was a girl on a modest beige couch, watching a not-quite modest masked man singing on her television screen.

1Nearby, on a modest wooden table, a telephone rang.

The girl growled.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Ally, sweetheart! Just calling to—"

"Check up on me for the ninth time since you left even though I'm eighteen and perfectly capable of taking care of myself," Ally interrupted.

Her mother sighed. "Well, if you want to be cynical, I guess you can put it that way. I take it you're fine?"

"Yes, mother." If her parents called to check on her one more time, she swore she would go out and pierce something out of pure spite.

"Well, alright. I'll talk to you later, dear."

"Bye, Mom." Ally hung up the phone and sighed, running her fingers through her dark blonde hair. Somehow they always managed to call just when she was to a key scene in the phantom movie she was watching. This time, they had managed to call right at the climax of the Final Lair sequence of the Gerry version.

Several minutes later, she had managed to get over her aggravation and was watching a decrepit Raoul leaving the creepy monkey box at Christine's grave. This was the last of her personal Phantom Phest that she had been having since her parents were gone. She had read both Leroux and Kay, and watched all three of the different versions of the movie that she owned; the 90's miniseries with Charles Dance, the silent Lon Chaney movie, and of course, the 2004 musical version.

That, as I'm sure you know, is a lot of Phantom to absorb in 48 hours, even for a diehard Phan. And unfortunately for her, it had an adverse effect on Ally.

She threw up.

Of course, it must be admitted that this might not have had any relationship to the Phantom whatsoever, as she had made the mistake of having greasy nachos and salsa for breakfast. But, after she got rid of said breakfast, the effects of the Phantom Phest did catch up with her, and a bitter, angry mood descended upon her like a metal claw lowering itself on a stuffed toy in an arcade game. Anger gave way to Rage, Rage gave way to Fury, Fury paused for a moment to go the bathroom, and then turned back into just plain Anger again.

"Everybody in this story is completely insane! I mean I always knew Erik was crazy, but even Christine and Raoul have serious issues! The whole lot of them should have been tossed into the looney bin!" Ally ranted, and as you can tell from the excessive use of exclamation points, she was pretty upset.

Finally Ally realized she was shouting to an empty house, and pacing her kitchen a bit dangerously. After all, she could walk right into the knife rack without noticing, in this agitated frame of mind. She took a deep breath, and tried to calm down.

It was then that Ally was struck by an Idea.

Actually, it was a large skillet hanging from the pot rack, but in the slightly concussed haze that being hit by the skillet produced, she had an Idea.

She grabbed some ice for the bruise and headed for her computer.

At first, Ally had the thought to write a long, dry essay on how the various incarnations of the Phantom had a mixture of different psychological issues. For instance, both Kay and Dance Erik suffered from Oedipus complexes, Leroux Raoul showed signs of being bipolar, and Teri Christine appeared to be a pathological liar.

Ally did some research, started getting into it, but then stopped. She realized that while her ideas were insightful, she needed a more interesting way of presenting them to her phellow phans. Thus, her story was born.

**The Phantom of the Opera Therapy Group.**

Ally, your run-of-the-mill phangirl, was fed up with the characters of the Phantom of the Opera. They were all crazy. So she rounded them up, brought them to her house for a group therapy session so that they could work out their problems. PG-ish. Comedy/Parody

Ally read it through again to proofread, then decided to upload it to a few minutes of her computer making weird noises, a little window appeared on the screen.

Your story has been successfully uploaded…and so much more…heh heh… 

Ally did a double take (that didn't sound like the usual confirmation message), but the box had already disappeared. She shrugged, and went to fix herself some lunch.

A few hours later, as she had moved on to her next obsession with an emotionally tortured older man and was settling in to read her much-loved Holmes, the doorbell rang.

Spammit! It had to be the Girl Scouts again.

They'd been to her house three times in the last week, simply because she was the only one on the block who refused to be conned into buying their awful cookies. Ally knew what was behind their sickeningly sweet smiles and refused to give in. That drove the girls nuts, and their animosity for Ally was starting to show. The last time they came they'd ever-so-politely suggested that if Ally didn't want to have her house egged, it would be oh-so-thoughtful of her to buy some cookies.

Ally left her room and walked towards the front door warily, trying to come up with just the right threat for the little demons.

But it was not, in fact, a group of two-faced seven year olds peddling cardboard cookies at her door.

It was a man.

An extremely thin man, wearing a cape and mask, to be exact.

Oh crap.

Ally's mother had been right after all. Her occasionally innocent phangirl daydreams had given way to full-blown hallucinations.

Erik stared.

Ally stared.

Finally, he cleared his throat and said in his polished, angelic voice, "Erik would like to come in now. It looks like rain." Without waiting for her to respond, he started to move towards the open door.

Ally stepped in his way. "You're not coming in. I'm going to close the door, you're going to go away, and I'm going to cling to my fragile sanity like a life preserver and pretend that this whole hallucination thing never happened."

Erik took another step forward. "Erik is not a figment of your imagination," he said with an irritated hiss.

"Well, I'd hardly expect you to admit it," Ally retorted calmly.

Before she could blink, Erik's skeletal fingers were closed around her neck in an icy death grip.

Despite the immediate danger to her rather young life, Ally took this golden opportunity to once and for all answer the question that phangirls across the world had often pondered: _Did_ Erik really smell like 'death', or was Christine just plain crazy?

Ally gave a delicate and thoughtful sniff. Well, he certainly didn't smell appealing, but _death_ seemed to be an over—wait, a minute, was that...she sniffed again. It was! He smelled like a combination of Irish Spring soap and the nasty medicinal odor of dandruff shampoo. After setting aside the revelation that the famed Opera Ghost had a dander problem for later consideration, she came to the conclusion that, (as she had suspected) naive, emotional Christine had been overly dramatic about his unique pungency. After she came to this conclusion, she remembered the reason why he was close enough for her to smell and returned her full attention to the masked madman who was presently trying to strangle her.

"Could a hallucination do this?" he asked.

"I'm not really sure. Did you ever see that Russell Crowe film—" Ally's words were choked off as Erik tightened his grip even further.

Ally brought her hands close to her face and inspected them. She could feel Erik's hands, thin and cold, and which were now dangerously close to cutting off her last bit of air. Well, maybe she _wasn't_ hallucinating…

She waved her arms wildly to get Erik to back off. "...I... believe...you..." she gasped.

Erik let go. "Good." He moved around her and silently slipped into the house.

Ally raised her hands to her very tender neck, and sucked in a large gulp of air. She hiccupped.

And hiccupped again. Ally went inside and closed the door, hiccupping every other step. She paused in the foyer. Where had the-Erik-who-was-not-a-hallucination gone off to? Ally got her answer moments later when a silky whisper chilled her right ear.

"Hello."

"Aaaaacccckkk!" She screamed, jumping into the air. She turned to look at Erik.

"Are you trying to scare ten years off of my life?" she asked angrily.

"No," he said, "Erik was trying to scare away your hiccups." He sounded pleased with himself. "And it worked!" He laughed, and clapped his hands together in childish glee.

Ally said nothing, just sighed and walked past him down the hallway into her family's great room. There was never a situation that called for a large aspirin more than the one she was in right now.

Instead of a separate living room, dining room, and kitchen, Ally's house had one huge room, with vaulted ceilings and several large windows, that was at the hub of the house. Erik's dark presence provided a sharp contrast to the whites and beiges of the large room, as he followed Ally to the kitchen. She poured herself a glass of water and reached for the medicine cupboard.

The doorbell rang.

Ally groaned.

She turned to Erik, who had perched himself on a barstool. "Would you mind getting that? I'm still recovering from the last time I answered the door."

To her surprise, he got up and walked towards the door. She hadn't expected him to actually listen to her so easily; he _was_ the Phantom of the Opera, after all.

"If it's a bunch of little girls in green outfits, you can take off your mask and scare them away," she called after him.

Ally heard Erik open the door. There was a strange pause, a murmured conversation too low for her to hear, and then the sound of footsteps coming back into the house.

Two pairs of footsteps.

Ally turned around _very_ slowly.

There, standing in her kitchen next to who she now realized was Leroux Erik, was another man in a mask. He looked a little less bony, his clothes were of finer quality and seemed to fit better, and he moved with a catlike grace, almost oozing with power and sensuality that made her want to grab him an—

"Excuse me," Kay Erik said, raising an invisible eyebrow behind his mask. "Why are you doing that?"

Ally looked at him from where she had her head in the kitchen sink, an icy jet stream pouring over her head. She turned it off.

"It's very refreshing. You should try it some time," she replied with as much dignity as she could manage, as she started to dry her hair with a towel. Kay Erik watched with obvious amusement, his arms folded gracefully across his chest.

Ally suddenly felt very foolish and juvenile in her black tank top that said, "Real men wear masks" and her "I Love My Angel of Music" sweatpants. (She was just glad they couldn't see her I Heart O.G. panties underneath.) When she'd purchased them she'd never imagined that she'd be wearing them in the presence of an actual Erik, let alone two. Ally wanted to go change, but she still had a headache to take care of.

She reached for the aspirin bottle.

The doorbell rang.

Ally snatched her hand back like it had been bitten, waited a few seconds, and then slowly reached for the bottle again.

The doorbell rang again.

"Nooo," Ally moaned, clutching her soggy head in her hands. She pointed at the Eriks, who were looking on with bewilderment (Leroux) and sardonic amusement (Kay). "One of you get the door, while I go change and dry my hair." Ally turned and walked away.

As she quickly dressed Ally tried to ignore the chorus of doorbells and the ever-increasing murmur of voices that were coming from down the hall.

Ally brushed her long hair into a neat ponytail, and took a last appraising look in the mirror. The whole effect wasn't too bad, actually. Her sky blue shirt and dark blue camisole brought out her greenish-blue eyes and…other things as well. Ally hurriedly applied some lip-gloss and mascara, while trying to remind herself that she was here to bring Erik and Christine together, not seduce him for herself. Still, it couldn't hurt to look her best.

Ally walked into the living room and was greeted by the most ghastly thing she had ever seen, mangled body parts everywhere, scattered entrails, blood dripping from the—I'm so sorry, someone in the next room is watching a slasher film; I'll do my best to ignore them. Let's try part that again.

Ally walked into the living room and was greeted by the sight of over a dozen Eriks, Christines and Raouls. Phandemonium and chaos reigned, as the Eriks tried to Punjab the Raoul appropriate to their version, and the Christines all watched and pleaded like the helpless little dingdongs they were.

Not really in the mood to watch a mass-murder of the Vicomtes de Chagny (although there had been times when in this situation she would have gladly cheered the Eriks on), Ally ran off to the garage and returned with her father's air horn. She held down the button and watched with satisfaction as everyone jumped a foot into the air, even the supposedly imperturbable Kay Erik.

Swallowing back a wicked grin (and this was not easy, because wicked grins taste very bitter going back down), she cleared her throat and spoke. "Now that I have your attention, what in the name of all-things-sexy-and-Crawford are you doing here!"

"You mean you don't know?" Kay Erik asked with a definite hint of smirking in his voice. "You're the one who requested it; we're simply doing what is written." He pulled out a piece of paper seemingly from nowhere, as did all the others, and handed it to Ally.

Her eyes quickly scanned the page, and she squeaked in disbelief. This may seem like a strange reaction to you, but I assure you, it was completely understandable. On that piece of paper was Ally's story.

"Well I've heard people say that words are powerful, but this is ridiculous," she muttered.

The collection of fictional characters in front of her looked at her expectantly, waiting for her to say something just a _bit_ more intelligent than that. She opened her mouth to speak, but the only sound anyone heard was...

...the doorbell.

Ally frowned and counted all the characters thoughtfully. Let's see, five Eriks, five Christines, one-two-three-four-five Raouls...yes, everyone was accounted for. That left only one guess as to the identity of the doorbell-ringer.

The Girl Scouts.

Ally looked at the Eriks. "Who'd like the opportunity to scare some evil cookie-selling children for me?" Chaney Erik immediately raised his hand, jumping up and down with excitement. This was no surprise; Chaney Erik _is_ arguably the most frightening and off-balanced Phantom there is.

Ally nodded. "Okay, just go answer the door for me and scare the little imps away. In return, I'll bake you some cookies."

That was all the encouragement he needed apparently, because the next sound anyone heard was Chaney Erik opening the door and the terrified screams of the Girl Scouts.

Ally grinned. Justice was sweet, but it was even sweeter when it was being dished out by a Phantom.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

While Chaney Erik was scaring the Girl Scouts away, Ally looked around her slightly crowded living room.

It was an extremely awkward situation to the power of five. The Raouls and the Eriks were on opposite sides of the room, glaring, and mumbling threats. Some of the Christines clung to their Raouls, while the other Christines stood somewhere in the middle, wringing their hands nervously as they tried to figure out who to stand next to.

There was Silent Raoul and Silent Christine, who were in a firm embrace as they looked nervously at all the Eriks. It was easily apparent that they were nervous because their eyes were opened so wide it looked as if they might fall out entirely. Silent Christine seemed to be trying to communicate something to her dear Vicomte, her mouth opened wide (if she wasn't black and white, she could have passed for Emmy Christine) and using gestures that could easily have landed a 747.

Patrick Raoul, who had a small mirror and seemed to be preening, stood nearby while Gerik had pulled out a stack of glossy 8x10s and was signing them in red ink with great flourish and enjoyment.

There was also Charles Dance Erik, who courteously pulled out a chair for Teri Christine while Philippe Raoul nonchalantly tried to look down Emmy Christine's dress. Happily for her, she didn't notice, as she was showing each of the charms on her charm bracelet to Kay Christine, who was nodding and smiling with glazed eyes. Leroux Christine stood nearby, and for lack of something to do was banging her head against the wall.

Across the room, Kay Erik and Leroux Erik nodded respectfully towards each other, and stared in stony silence as they watched the anarchy before them. Leroux Erik seemed quite frightened, while Kay Erik seemed to find it all incredibly funny, as he was employing the Sophisticated Smirk of Sardonic Amusement.

Ally had the sudden urge to crawl into her bed and not come out for a very, very long time. What had she gotten herself into?

Chaney Erik finally returned and looked at Ally expectantly. "Alright, Chaney Erik, I'll bake cookies just like I promised, just be patient."

Chaney Erik gave her a stare that seemed to point put that Patience was not high on the list of Seven Habits of Highly Effective Opera Ghosts. Ally was about to go into the kitchen and start making his cookies when trouble started.

Gerik leaned over Patrick Raoul's shoulder. "Is that a gray hair?"

Patrick Raoul shrieked like a teenage girl. "Where!" He moved the mirror around his head, fluffing his hair wildly. Gerik laughed, doubling over as he clutched his stomach. Patrick raoul turned redder than a baboon's behind, and reached for his sword.

Within in moments, Gerik had pulled out his as well, and a heated duel began. The other Eriks and Raouls cheered them on, a circle forming around them. It was like a schoolyard fight, only with dangerous objects and masked men, instead of schoolchildren. The Christines all stood off to the side, nervous, frightened, and appaled.

Ally had to stop this before it got out of hand. She grabbed the air horn once again, and once again smiled to herself when everyone jumped a foot in the air.

"Enough!" Ally set down the air horn and folded her arms across her chest, glaring at them in what she hoped was an intimidating manner.

"Believe me, I understand that you guys have issues with each other and scores to settle. That's why I brought you here. But you can NOT do it by fighting. Is that clear?"

This statement was met with growling and mumbling, but eventually everyone nodded in agreement.

Ally smiled. "Good. Now, I really need you guys to do something for me."

This statement received blank stares from everyone in the room, except Kay Erik, who smirked and once again raised the Hidden Eyebrow of Sarcasm.

Gerik grinned smugly. "Sure baby, always happy to please a phan." By way of agreement Phillipe Raoul unsubtly raised his eyebrows and winked.

Ally smacked her forehead. The Eriks were no better than teenage boys! "Not _that, _you pervs; your weapons." This they seemed to understand, although most of the Eriks frowned and the Raouls looked nervous. Disgruntled murmurs spread across the room faster than a childhood disease at daycare.

"Punjab lassos, swords, dueling pistols, daggers—wait, did you just pinch me?" Ally whirled on the still grinning Gerik. "Maybe. Would you like me to do it again?" His grin, if possible, somehow got wider and more insinuative.

Ally blinked. All the eyes in the room, in fact, were now turned towards Gerik (except for Phillippe Raoul, who was happily staring at the abundance of Christine cleavages around him. He was in bosom heaven.)

Ally finally just shook her head and continued with what she had been saying.

"Punjab lassos, swords, dueling pistols, daggers, etc. I don't want to have to explain a bunch of murders to the police or my parents, so whatever you've got that's dangerous, hand it over." Ally put her hands on her hips and waited.

The Raouls were the first to hand over their various swords and pistols, after an encouraging smile from their Christines, and laid them in a pile at Ally's feet. Not to be outdone in front of the Christines, the Eriks slowly came forward and dropped their Punjab lassos and the occasional sword into the pile. Kay Erik was the last to do so, and his body language and low muttering in Persian made it clear as an acne cream model's face that he was _not_ happy about it.

"Good job everyone. I know this wasn't easy for you." Ally looped the lassos over one arm and gathered up the rest of the weapons awkwardly. She went into the garage and locked them in the cabinet where her mother kept all the flammable-and-otherwise-dangerous-stuff, like matches and blenders. Ally's mother was a just a _tad_ on the paranoid side.

Ally returned, key in hand. Once she was sure everyone's eyes were one her, she waved the little key around, and put it down her bra.

"You guys want to kill each other, you'll have to get the key from me first." The Christines did not find this an amusing place to put it and the ones that weren't angry looked thoroughly shocked. The Raouls and Eriks backed away slightly, except for Gerik and Philippe Raoul (aren't you surprised?), who looked more than a little excited. Ally hastily pulled the key back out and put it in her pocket. She made a mental note to find a better location for it later.

Teri Christine had noticed Philipe Raoul's reaction however, and was not pleased. She gave Philippe Raoul a hard slap in the face. "Everywhere we go you find someone to flirt with! I thought you loved me," she wailed.

Charles Erik leaned towards Kay Erik in a confidential manner. "I tried to warn her. I told her he goes to the Opera for the wrong reason."

Ally was about to step in, as this was an excellent time to begin discussing everyone's issues, when a peeved Chaney Erik appeared at her side. He was _not_ happy, and to point out that this was an understatement is in and of itself an understatement. Ally was immediately reminded that though endearing in a disturbed sort of way, Chaney Erik was still a Phantom, and it was therefore _not_ a good idea to upset him. She decided not to waste anymore time, and that now would be an excellent time to go into the kitchen and bake Chaney Erik's promised cookies. Chaney Erik followed her happily, like an adorable masked puppy.

The rest of the Eriks looked around. All the couches and armchairs in the living room were being sat upon by pairs of Raouls and Christines, clinging to each other (clinging happens to be what Raouls and Christines do best, it seems. The vicomte and his ingenue can cling to each other as if their very molecules would fall apart if they let go. Seriously.) Every possible seat was taken by one of the clueless clutching couples (except for Teri Christine and Phillipe Raoul, who were arguing), so as an autonomous collective the Eriks also followed Ally into the kitchen. She was pulling some packages of Nestle cookie dough out of the fridge.

"What is that?" Kay Erik asked disdainfully.

Ally blinked. "Oh, right, you're from the nineteenth century, so this would be new. _This_," she said proudly as she turned the oven on, "is a log of pre-made cookie dough. All I have to do is spoon it onto a pan and _presto_! In ten minutes we have cookies." Ally opened a kitchen cupboard, and stared at the baking pans that had been stored (rather inconsiderately, Ally thought) above her reach. She turned to Kay Erik, who was still eyeing the cookie dough packages suspiciously.

"Would you please get me those cookie sheets up there? I can't reach."

Kay Erik nodded, and reached over Ally's head to get them, and it seemed to her that every movement he made was part of a complicated dance of grace and poise and sensuality…Ally had the sudden urge to kiss him—

Ally blinked. What was she thinking? She shook her head, and inwardly cursed Susan Kay. No male fictional character should be allowed to have this much animal magnetism written into his personality. There ought to be laws against such things, it was dangerous.

Kay Erik was watching her, bemused, as he waited for her to take the pans from him. Ally snatched them from him, trying not to blush, and muttered something that sounded vaguely like thank you.

"Now, this 'log' as you call it, actually tastes like a substance that resembles edible cuisine?" Kay Erik asked, pointing once again to the packages of Nestle on the counter.

Ally nodded, somewhat distractedly, and started spooning the cookie dough onto the pan.

Kay Erik snorted as if he didn't believe her, but he said nothing more. He sat at the kitchen table with the other Eriks and they all waited in a very eerie Erik-like silence for the cookies to be done.

Grateful to have him not quite so close to her, Ally continued to spoon out the dough. She just needed to think of something other than Kay Erik, focus on something else, that was it. How did that song from the Sound of Music go again? Raindrops on roses…and then something about kittens…cats…Ayesha…Kay Erik petting Ayesha…Kay Erik's long, elegant fingers—

Ally dropped the spoon to the floor, causing a loud clatter that echoed through the quiet kitchen. She tossed the spoon into the sink irritably, making more noise. She desperately resisted the urge to put her head under the faucet again, and settled for pouring herself a large glass of ice water.

Ally put the first cookie sheet into the oven, set the timer, and started scooping dough onto the next pan. The Eriks watched, some amused, some frightened, as every few moments her hand would jerk, she would blink and shake her head, muttering to herself, and gulp water as if trying to drown herself.

Gerik leaned towards Dance Erik. "It's like dinner theater," he said, and they both chuckled.

The timer dinged, and Ally set the pan out to cool while she poured each of the Eriks a glass of milk.

Gerik and Dance Erik both reached for their milk and took a swig. Kay, Leroux, and Chaney stared. Actually, 'glared', is probably the more appropriate word. Their masks were the more canonical full-face style, and thus prevented them from drinking their milk without removing their masks (which as we all know, is something all Eriks prefer to avoid.)

Ally walked over, still muttering to herself, and placed a plate of warm cookies in front of them.

That did it for Chaney Erik. He had been promised those cookies, and he wasn't going to let a mask separate them from him. He set his mask on the table beside him and happily started munching on one.

Gerik turned whiter than his milk, and Dance Erik squirmed a little in his seat, but they wisely said nothing.

Kay Erik snorted haughtily. "And you call yourselves Eriks," he sneered. He turned to Chaney Erik. "A true Erik doesn't just whip off his mask like it's the most natural thing in the world. You eat in solitude, where no one can see your face! You should be ashamed." He turned to Dance Erik. "And you, in your frilly lace cuffs; you're worse than the fop!"

Dance Erik couldn't protest because he still had cookie in his mouth, and he firmly believed in good table manners.

Kay Erik narrowed his eyes at Gerik. "And you. Exactly how old is your Christine, anyway?"

Everyone turned to look over into the living room, where Emmy Christine was braiding Leroux Christine's hair and chatting happily. Everyone looked at Gerik.

"She's…legal," he said defensively. "At least I think so…" He suddenly looked very uncomfortable.

Through all this Chaney Erik forlornly stared at the table, to ashamed even to continue eating his cookies.

Ally stepped in. "There's no need to attack the other Eriks just because you've got your panties in a twist."

She turned to Chaney Erik and kissed him on the forehead. "It's okay, go ahead and enjoy your cookies. Just ignore Erik McCrankypants over here," she said kindly.

Kay Erik fumed silently.

Chaney Erik, instantly in love, since no one had ever kissed him, not even his Christine, latched onto Ally's hand and held it lovingly against his cheek. At first Ally didn't mind, after all, nuzzling an Erik is what phangirls dreams are made of, right? Eventually, though, Ally ceased to have feeling in her fingers, and the buzzer for the next batch of cookies was going off. Despite her pleading, however, Chaney Erik would not let go. Something had to be done.

"You know, Chaney Erik, Leroux over here is the original Erik, from THE book. That kinda makes him like your big brother, doesn't it? I'll bet you two would have lots to talk about."

Leroux Erik, who had finally decided since he was the true Erik and had nothing to prove that he could take off his mask whenever he damn well pleased, especially if cookies were involved, looked up from his cookies and milk mid-dunk, with an expression that clearly said, "What did you have to go and tell him that for?"

Chaney Erik digested this information, and suddenly let go of Ally's hand and began gesturing. Leroux Erik stared warily at Chaney Erik, who was practically bouncing with excitement, but quickly found a way to use Chaney Erik's admiration of him to his benefit.

When Ally, who had taken advantage of her sudden freedom to go get the next batch of cookies out of the oven, turned around to find Leroux Erik eating Chaney Erik's cookies, she put a stop to it immediately, earning her another death glare from Leroux Erik.

As Ally set the cookies out to cool, she contemplated her day so far. She had managed to kiss and be nuzzled by an Erik, get pinched by an Erik, leered at by an Erik and a Raoul, and totally tick off two other Eriks.

It was shaping up to be a productive afternoon.

A/N: Thank you so much for all the positive reviews! I'm really trying to improve as a writer, and I appreciate it. I have a good start on the next chapter, and the rest of them outlined, so I'll try to update again as soon as I can. More reviews might help spur me on, though. wink


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